Harry Potter and the Ancients Curse
by Ludost
Summary: Wolf was named by a tree. For all her life she has lived by the side of a road, staring at Hogwarts, School of witchcraft and wizardry. After a brief dream, Wolf awakens with her own, ancient power, the ability to plunge into ones soul, and a powerfull urge to meet two people, Dumbledore, and Harry Potter. Follow her adventures as she follows her destiny in Hogwarts. T for paranoia
1. Chapter 1

Wolf was not a normal girl. A normal sixteen year-old wears make-up, does up her hair, diets, wears prada. A normal sixteen-year old tries to look nice, wears form-fitting clothing, and gets chewed up by her dad for sneaking out to parties in the middle of the night. But, Wolf was not normal. She had different colors than normal people, her hair was a violent shade of blue, and had been since her birth, her eyes were a deep, deep, blue-black. She was small, malnutrition, quiet. Her hair stuck up at odd angled, and she smelled like strong arabic ink.

Her face was round and boyish, her eyelashes dark and long, her hair bushy and untamed. She was skinny, and dusty colored, like someone had dropped a bucket of dirt over her head and left her in the sahuaros to bake. But her coloring was not smooth caramel, like an israelian, nor a ruddy chocolate like the africans. It was splotchy, transparent, like tea-soaked cotton.

For her whole life, or as far back as she could remember, which wasn't too far, Wolf had lived in a tree. It was a strong oak tree, with a smooth trunk and thick branches. The tallest branch was easily twenty feet up in the air, but the tip seemed to touch the sky. It was an old, quiet tree that didn't talk to much, as most trees did, as Wolf knew, and her leaves blocked plenty of rain and snow.

In the tree, Wolf had aranged a sort of giant nest, woven out of sticks and leaves and strands of her own hair, which was where she slept. Higher up, she had wrapped home-made ropes around the branches into a chair, so she could sit among the leaves and look down on people, pleasantly camouflaged by leaves.

Through a hole in the mesh of leaves that wolf peacefully resided in, she could see a giant castle, set far up on a distant, emerald hill. There was a peaceful, dingy brown road that wound to it's far right, and a large black lake, like an ink-blot on faded parchment. Every hour of the day, Wolf could see tiny black dots, zooming in and out of the tallest tower, and black clad people milling around in groups. Wolf didn't have a lot of contact with people. She had lived in the tree for a long time, some days conversing with cyclists that stopped to sit under her tree, other days, wandering up and down the road, looking for twigs among the grass.

Most people didn't notice the owlish girl staring from down from up in the tree. They just chatted with the other members of their party or ate in silence, relaxing visible beside Wolfs oak tree. But Wolf remembered every person who stopped by. The red-haired woman who held a screaming, fat little child in her arms, the scraggly little boy trying to patch up a hole in his shoe, the muscled spanish man with the fancy bike, and countless other people. But the one she remembered most was a tall, gentle old man, she saw in winter, wearing flowing robes and a tall, pointy hat. He had as opposite colors to Wolf as possible, with bright blue eyes and long white hair. She didn't see much of his skin from where she was crouched up in the trees branches, but it looked healthy, warm.

"Hello, Evangeline." he said as he approached the tree, placing an old, knarled hand against the trees trunk. Wolf started, but her tree responded warmly, rustling animatedly in response.

"Ah, yes, it has been to long, I see you've grown taller." he chuckled, stroking the trunk dreamily.

"I still remember you as a sapling, a good many years before, so small you were then! Oh, yes, I know you're hardly small. You're spanning twenty feet now, aren't you?"

The conversation continued, Evangelines branches rustling happily and the old man talking gently and warmly. An hour passed, and Wolf grew tired of listening to the old mans warm voice. It made her think of fire, but warm , like a memory of a hearth. She shook her head. She had no memories of home, so she should't try to make them, she told herself angrily. But the voice was comforting and powerful.

The chill of dusk set in, and Wolf curled up on the small mat of leaves she had made herself, clutching her shoulders and breathing slowly into the wood under her. The night was quiet, but the doleful call of hooting owls was still echoing from the distant castle. Wolf listened to the owl until it's cries became faint and the darkness settled in thick and biting. She shivered.

I wonder if the castle was warm, she thought longingly. The walls looked confining, claustrophobic, hard, and painful. But the inside must be warm, she reasoned, and I've never been inside a building before. Then how do you know it's warm! Cried the part of her that loved the cold. The part of her that dwelled in her blue hair and cobalt eyes.

_Child? Are you cold? Shall I warm you? _

Wolf shook her head., her internal argument subsided, to be replaced by gratitude.

" I'm all right, but thank you, Evangeline." she murmured. She let out a quiet laugh.

" Look at me, this many years and only now do I want warmth." she snuggled up to a branch using it to lean her head against, " You're warm enough for me, Evangeline."

_I'm only a tree, I should not be warm enough! You should want a human. Child. Go to the castle, there are people there, I'm sure it's warmer there._

" You are all I need. Goodnight evangeline." she murmured to her tree.

_good night, my child. sleep well._

But Wolf didn't sleep well. She slipped swiftly into the darkness of a dream, but before she could take her first, sleepy breath, she was in a hallway. The walls were covered in painting and things shed never seen before, and bright torches flickered on the walls. She looked around peacefully, not at all shocked, after all, it was only a dream. But as soon as she began to move toward a torch, the scene changed from a dim hallway to a bright library. A skinny, raven hair boy was groaning over a piece of parchment, books piled up around him.

His red-haired friend was in the same predicament, but he was pleading with a bushy haired girl with her nose in a book. She cast him a disdainful look, said some words Wolf couldn't hear and stalked off. The two boys went mournfully back to work. Wolf watched them curiously. They too wore the strange robes the old man had worn, except theirs were black and his had a been a deep, deep, blue.

The black-haired boy flicked some hair from his eyes and Wolf caught a glimpse of something dark on his forehead. A scar. However, the scar was a very pretty scar, jagged and clean, not blistered nor red, nor bone-white. The boy sighed and packed some books in his back. As he stood up, saying some words to his friend, Wolf saw his eyes, bright, emerald green. An image flooded into her, a bright, cold green, not warm like the boys, and a cold, high laugh that made wolf want to cry.

The image faded, and wolf lurched back into her dream, ready to confront the boy. The image had been painful, painful and cold, like murder was. It had been the boys earliest memory, and it held so much emotion, so much hatred, that Wolf could feel her sleeping form begin to react, and wake up. She struggled to stay in the dream, she needed to see more, to look at more things. She wanted to touch the books, sit near the fire, talk to the green-eyed boy.

The scene changed, and this time it was the old man, his eyes bright and blue. Wolf felt her body shift, she felt light on her eyelids. A woman in front of him began to speak, and the man nodded. The light touch of rain on her head. Dumbledore. Harry Potter. Wolf woke up with a start. She heard the voice clearly say two names. Dumbledore, and harry potter.

Wolf sat up, rubbing her forehead, turning the names around in her head. Some-how, she had fallen from the tree to the ground, where she was steadily getting soaked by rain. Her thin cotton dress was soaked in seconds, and the mud had pulled her down in a minute. The wind roared, angry and cold, but Wolf didn't move toward Evangeline, who she knew would protect her. She was staring at the castle.

"Evangeline. I'm going out for a bit. " she muttered, but she knew the tree wouldn't hear her over the wind and rain. As if pulled by a magnet, Wolf slowly left her home, bracing herself against the storm, heading towards Hogwarts, where she would look for two green eyes and a lightning shaped scar.

_goodbye, Wolf. May your fate be kind. i will remember you forever._

**This is my first fanfic, I don't own harry potter or anyone else, only Wolf and this plot**


	2. Chapter 2 The Bad Begining

CHAPTER 2 **: I don't own harry potter, only Wolf.**

It was time for the sorting again, and the hat had already gone through twenty people, five of which had joined the Griffindors table. Beside Harry, who was sandwiched between the weasley twins and Ron, a steady puddle of rainwater was pooling up, dark and smelly. Ron wrinkled his nose in disgust and leaned forward to whisper in Harrys ear.

"Blimey, those first years keep getting smaller and smaller." he glared at the tallest one that had just been sorted into Slytherin, " We weren't that small, right mate."

" Dunno." said Hermione in an offhand voice, she was fingering a book she had snuck in her robes, " You two were pretty small. Harry, you were just skinny."

" Ough, " muttered Fred," Thats gotta hurt." But Harry just grinned, he had been tiny, and skinny, though he seriously doubted be was as small as some of the first years up there, dripping wet and shivering in the cold. He was however, trying not to smell the water that was pooling up by his feet now, as it smelled like rotten fish. Ron said something rude about a newly sorted Slytherin, and Hermione reluctantly agreed.

" He does look like he's been hit by a hex, give me a while and I'll figure it out, but, " she shrugged weakly, " accidents happen?"

Ron shook his head, tutting, and Harry was struck wit the truth of what Ron was arguing, the boy was a bit lopsided. His mouth was in a kind of quirky grimace, and half of his hair was flat while the other half was wavy. The colors mostly matched, and his ears were both slightly pointed. It wasn't too unusual, except for his eyes, which were different colors, one a sterling, silver-blue, one and orange red. He gasped.

" Look, that first year, see his eyes?!" he whispered urgently, leaning forward so Hermione, who was across from him, could hear. Ron squinted, trying to wipe some water away fro his eyes. " It's a bit far, Harry, I mean, I can see him, but the colors…"

" It's red!" gasped Hermione loudly. A bit too, loudly. She clasped her hands over her mouth, and shrank in her chair, but some kid had just joined the table, so no one heard over the applause and roaring. Ron looked at her accusingly and Harry held up an angry finger, 'shush!'.

" B-but, that looks like V-V-Voldemorts eyes, doesn't it Harry?" she whispered fearfully, her eyes wide. Harry turned around and squinted like Ron, who was still trying to get the water from dripping down his face.

" It is a bit far." he admitted ( Ha! said Ron), " But it is red…"

" Maybe he's like, half as powerful as You-Know-Who, so he's only HALF as evil." suggested Ron, " Or he's like, possessed, or something."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but Hermione interjected, shaking her head, and holding up her finger to quiet them. Harry fell silent as the last first year was sorted into Hufflepuff, and Dumbledore stood up to give a speech. Harry was still watching the mysterious fist-year brush off Malfoy when all of a sudden, the great front door creaked open. A roaring wind rushed in, carrying stinging drops of water, and sheets of hail. Every body shrieked and Harry distinctly felt Ron slip under the table with a yelp of before long, Dumbledore swung his arm hastily at the door, and it shut, leaving the students sprawled over the tables or on the floor in various positions, dripping wet.

" Great, now I'm soaking, AGAIN." muttered Ron, frowning at his dripping robes. Hermione was hunched over her book, trying to keep it dry, but Harry was, along with most of the students, staring at the doors, and most importantly, at the dripping wet girl in front of them.

Wolf took one look around her, and found herself staring at countless pair of eyes, none of them bright green. The sheer number of them was overwhelming, as Wolf had never been near so many people at once, she tried to see them all, but got dizzy and fell backwards onto her butt. The rain was still cold against her skin, and her vision was blurry, but she could feel the gazes of many people in shock. Harry Potter, and Dumbledore, said her memory.

Wolf clenched her fists and stood up, her eyes large and thoughtful. She took a deep breath in, made a silent prayer to Evangeline, and said as loudly as she could,

" HARRY POTTER, DUMBLEDORE."

The girls voice was raspy and hollow, like a low note on a flute. It sounded dry from underuse, and pitiful as it was quiet when it was obviously meant to be a loud proclamation. She was panting after she said those name, shivering, gasping for breath, and holding herself limply. The whole room held it's breath for more.

" Is that it, " whispered Ron, " You must be pretty popular, Harry." Harry blushed slightly, but he was still staring at her. There was a gentle cough from above, and Harry saw that Dumbledore had started moving swiftly toward her.

Wolf looked toward the coughing sound and saw the old man, Dumbledore, sweeping toward her, a strange expression on his face. Wolf felt releif, and excitement. More than ever, she wanted to see those blue eyes. She took a hesitant step toward him, and left at a run, dashing toward him at top speed, for a second he look mildly surprised ans his eyes widened, but she was there in just a second, her face as close to his as possible. She gasped, staring into his eyes, and Dumbledore stared back into hers.

" Hem. May I ask young lady," he said gently, who you are, and where your parents are?"

The little girl showed no sign she had heard him, but reached up and placed her hands on his eyes. Comfort, he thought, maybe her father had blue eyes. But Wolf just moved closer murmuring soft words. Dumbledore knelt, trying to listen. The room was still holding it's breath, but there was an undertone of muttering and speculating. The girl in front of him was thin, just skin and bones, stretched tight, he could almost see her skull and her collarbone protruded. But her eyes were not hungry, they were calm, and indifferent, but at the same time fascinated.

The little girl licked her lips. " Harry potter." she croaked, coughing. He smiled, sweeping off his cloak and wrapping it around her tenderly, She shivered, it was warm, more warm than ever. Dumbledore picked her up in his arms, and walked back up to where the teachers sat. Minerva gasped, and Madam pomfery looked scandalized.

" That poor child, " squeaked flitwick, " All skin and bones! No meat!"

" Talk about yourself, first, Professor. Flitwick. " said Dumbledore with a smile, placing the child in his chair. He made to move back to speak to the students but Wolf leaped up, and was in front of him in a second, her hands back on his face. Dumbledore picked her up gently with one arm, as she continued to stare at his eyes, and walked to the front of the podium.

" Now, " he began in a loud, amused voice, " I can say what I tried to before; Tuck in."

The whole room shook with roars, both of pleasure and of indignation, But dumbledore wasn't done;

" I ask you, student, to treat this new student kindly and gently, she shouldn't be given special treatment, but still. Be wary."

And with that, he swept back to the table.

CHAPTER 3

" Blimey, did you see how skinny she was, and the color of her hair?" Ron shook his head in wonder, " Crazy. Just raving."

Hermione shook her head impatiently. " Hey, what do you think she wanted you for, Harry?" said Ron. The three turned a corner.

" Dunno." sighed Harry, " Course, If Dumbledore would tell me-"

" He will, he's probably still with her, thats all." said Hermione soothingly.

" Actually, It was quite hard to get her off me so that wouldn't be true." came an amused, light voice. Hermione jumped and dropped her books on her foot, Ron just leapt back , but Harry smiled.

" Hello Harry, I was hoping you'd join me for some late-evening tea, hm?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically and Dumbledore broke out into a wide smile. The two off them waved off Ron and Hermione ( who was limping), and headed up to Dumbledore's office.

" Fizzing Whizzbees." Dumbledore said lightly to the gargoyles, who jumped aside. Harry entered after Dumbledore and saw the skinny girl wrapped up and lying peacefully on a plush couch. Her shape was oddly rigid and bent, and she muttered words quietly under her breath as she slept.

" Have a seat, Harry." Dumbledore said quietly. Harry sat on a chair opposite the Girl, rather uncomfortably, as she looked a bit ill. The girl squirmed for a minute as Dumbledore paced to a cabinet to retrieve some candy, and suddenly sat bolt upright with a cry, tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes wide and shocked. Harry leapt out of his seat, and Dumbledore shoved the plate of candies onto his desk in his haste to reach her.

" Harry Potter.." she mumbled quietly, as Dumbledore placed a warm hand on her head. Wolf blinked, dispelling the dream from her eyes and looked around her. Her heart leapt into her throat. Right in front of her were the two pairs of eyes she had wanted to see most, Dumbledore and Harry potter, sitting in a beautiful, bright room, surrounded by books and delicate, whirring devices. She gasped.

" Now dear have some of this, please, it's quite good." She looked back at Dumbledore, who handed her a cup of something warm. She sniffed it, and the smell was so warm, so sweet and yet savory, that she gulped it all down in one mouthful. The butterbeer slid down her throat warm and sweet, awakening feeling in her toes and fingertips.

" Wow," she said, now in a smooth, sweet voice, " That was something…"

Harry hovered behind Dumbledore, feeling worried and hesitant. The girl gulped down the butterbeer and suddenly her words were more eligible, and Dumbledore was beaconing him to sit down. Harry sat at the foot of the bed, staring at her wide, curious eyes.

" Whats your name, child." said Dumbledore, refilling her cup. She took another satisfied gulp, and sighed.

" Name?" she said curiously, cocking her head to one side like a bird.

" What people call you." replied Dumbledore. He took her cup and placed it on the table. " You know, what your parents named you."

The girl shook her head, and stared into Dumbledore's eyes blatantly.

" I don't have something called a parent." she said bluntly, " I only have the tree, Evangeline."

"Ah, I see." said Dumbledore, smiling brilliantly, " You're Wolf!"

The girl nodded her head, and pointed to Harry, noticing him quite suddenly. Harry felt her eyes pierce his and plunge into his mind, like she had shot him between his eyes. " Harry Potter!" she cried, struggling to his side. She placed her hands on his eyes, her mouth open in wonder. Then, something slammed shut in her eyes, her arms fell, her jaw slackened. Harry stumbled backward, stunned that she had suddenly leapt forward to touch his face.

Dumbledore was leaning over her, peering into her eyes.

" Um, Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

" Is something wrong?"

Dumbledore sighed, looking away from harry and back to Wolf, who was sitting, rigid on a plush cushion.

" Yes Harry, something is very wrong. Wolf has just dived into your soul, and is now experiencing the night your parents were killed. As you. Think of it like you going back into time to the time you were a baby and watching the scene unfold from your older perspective."

Harry frowned, but just on cue tears began flooding out of her eyes. It was horrifying, her eyes bulged, but they were still vacant, and though she didn't move she made sounds as if she was at a loss for words. Her body convulsed, her eyes flew opened and she let out an ear-splitting scream. Wolf fell backwards into the pillows, tears still streaming down her face.

" Professor, " choked Harry, terrified, and horrified, " Can't we.."

" No harry, we can't." sighed the professor sadly, sounding old and tired, " We can't do everything, we cant do anything."

He looked back and Harry saw sadness, grief, and age in his eyes.

" I didn't mean for you to see this, I'm afraid. I suppose you should go to bed now, I'll leave her to madam Pomfrey."

And with that, the session ended.


	3. Chapter 3 Foul Concoctions

When Wolf woke up there was a terrible, irony taste in her mouth, like she had bit her tongue in her sleep. Her head throbbed painfully and her eyes threatened to sink deeper into her sockets and down, down onto the wood. Wolf rolled to her side, trying to remember her dream. It had been something dark, something elusive, like an eel. A sticky green eel. Wolfs eyes flew open. Green. There it was again, a phantom image of a flash of green light.

Wolf thought of all the shades of green she could remember. Rotten leaves, young leaves, new bark, grass, a pair of eyes. The pain in her forehead suddenly got worse, and Wolf felt her consciousness slip away. Green eyes, sad, but strong; who's were they? Her skin was crackling, burning. The Spanish cyclist, or the overworked mother? The heat was throbbing through her very veins, burning her, melting her. She was going to disintegrate into a heap of rotten black ashes and blow away with the wind.

She shuddered, the heat dancing over her cheeks now, spreading down her neck. She screamed, wrapping herself up in her bed-covers. Her body was moving slower. Getting lighter. The heat was at her heart now, and all she could see was a bloody, ravaging red. ' Blood.' thought Wolf sleepily, ' I'm Bleeding.'

Suddenly, she could feel two cold spots growing on cheeks; two soft hands were holding her head up, and the cold was seeping down skin. She fell limp, panting, the heat almost dispelled from her body. She opened her eyes a crack.

" Oh, are you awake?" It was a motherly , middle-aged woman wearing robes of a soothing, light color, her soft hands on Wolfs hot cheeks.

" I tried to change your hair color back to whatever it was normally. Honestly, young people these days." she tutted, lowering Wolf back down onto a soft, feathery bed. Wolf hadn't noticed she was on a bed, and she wondered briefly why she wasn't with Evangeline. She missed the soft, woody smell, she realized, cotton just didn't do the same.

" Needless to say, it didn't work, must've been a very strong hex that changed it…" The woman was muttering, rummaging through some drawers filled with various glistening bottles. She grabbed one, and rushed back to the bedside.

" Drink this." she ordered, handing the little glass bottle to Wolf before settling down in a chair to mutter some more. Wolf uncorked the bottle, which smelled like gasoline, and took a tentative sip. She gagged, the strange concoction had tasted like gasoline too. Wolf shook her head, feeling tears well up in her eyes.

" Now now, it's not that bad." huffed the woman, " It's edible if you hold your nose. Go on, it's good for you."

Wolf picked up the bottle feeling like she owed the woman for getting rid of the awful heat, and screwed her eyes shut. The potion went down swiftly, like it had been slippery, but left an acrid taste like vomit. The woman snatched the bottle from Wolf and placed it on a little bedside table. Wolf was still spluttering, tried to scape the awful taste off her tongue.

" Now, about your hair-"

" It's been like that. Since birth." Wolf coughed. She sat up, rubbing her slightly throbbing temples. The taste had been awful, but her stomach was now full. She hadn't even noticed it hadn't been.

The room she sat in was large and bright, there were strange holes in the walls that glimmered and were transparent, and a panel of dark wood in front of her. Windows, her head supplied, windows and doors. Wolf thought about that, how she felt about a panel of dead wood, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed ( also a word her head supplied ), and felt the floor. It was cold, blessedly cold. Wolf sat still like that, her feet dancing over the surface of the floor, her hand fingered the clean, white ' sheets' until the woman came back from her drawers holding another bottle of dubious substance.

" Ma'am?" asked Wolf weakly. The woman popped open the bottle and poured it into a glass cup.

" Yes, honey?" she replied, handing over the glass. Wolf took it reluctantly, eyeing the surface suspiciously. The liquid sparkled innocently up at her, a bubbly champagne pink that reminded her of clouds.

" Drink up." she said cheerfully, and left the room. Wolf only marveled for a moment about how the panel of wood had swung open and shut so swiftly, before she decided to get it over with. Placing her lips gingerly on the wooden cup, Wolf gulped it all down swiftly holding her breath tightly. She immediately regretted doing so.

The drink was sweet but not rich. It was refreshing and cool and reminded Wolf of a breeze; soft, light, sweet. It slipped down her throat easily, leaving no aftertaste, but washing away the unpleasant oily flavor of the other potion. It left her fingers tingling nicely and her eyes feeling awake and light. Wolf withdrew her lips from the cups slowly, and licked her lips for the last few drops.

The happiness lasted for one moment before she remembered, with a flash, the dream she had had. Whether it had been the potion, erasing all morning befuddlements, or the sudden flash of green as she glanced out the mirror, Wolf forgot.

" Oh gods." Wolf whispered, holding a shaking hand to her mouth. She gulped down a sob, telling herself that it hadn't really happened, it wasn't true. It was a dream. She'd had many dreams, like the one before she came; Harry Potter and Dumbledore.

Wolf shot out of her bed, and onto her feet. She had to meet Harry Potter. If anything, she told herself, I have to apologize. I saw something I shouldn't have. But Wolf, once she had gotten unsteadily to a good walking position, couldn't easily get out. She fumbled for a moment with the door handle before it opened, rather reluctantly, and she fell headfirst into a dim corridor. Wolf yelped, slipping slightly on the cobblestones, and tried to regain her balance. This time holding steadily onto the wall, Wolf rushed down the corridor into what she viewed as a dark, claustrophobic, tunnel.

By the time she had reached a door, Wolf had already fell down a flight of stairs, barreled through a suit of armor, tripped over a bench and stubbed her toe twice. Heat washed over Wolf as she stood outside the door, still a bit unsure on her feet wondering if Harry Potter might be on the other side of the door. She touched the handle to the door hesitantly. It was quite dark where she was, and cold. The air was heavy and dank, the torches light was dark, maybe blue.

Wolf had always lived outside, so in the narrow corridor and almost nonexistent light made her feel sick, and heavy. Almost as sick as before, she speculated calmly, I hope that doesn't happen again. Once again taking a big, long breath in, so she could feel the tips of her toes against the frigid cobbles, Wolf set her eyes in a determined, face-front gaze, swept her dark blue hair out of her eyes, grabbed the handle and twisted it, opening the door and stepping gently inside.

The first thing she saw; one ice cold eye, one scarlet


End file.
